


All Work and No Play....

by Sildominarin



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sildominarin/pseuds/Sildominarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Won't fly in Altair's book. Just how is any work going to get done now that he's in charge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Work and No Play....

**Author's Note:**

  * For [t-lyrical (tanyart)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/gifts).



The parchment crackled against the wood of the desk, light shining across the map and highligting all those things an assasin must know about an area. A pen scratched across the surface, the characters swift and sure in a bold and steady hand. This was the fourth such map that Malik A-Sayf had worked on today, and it was as perfect and complete as the first. There was a clay glass of water at his side, forgotten, and the hour for lunch in Masyaf was passing unnoticed. There was nothing in his mind but completing this last task, for the day was still new, and the rest would be his when he was done. For today was a beautiful day, more so then usual, and he had great plans for it.

He returned the quill idly, mind elsewhere. Two hands rested on the map, fingers of the left drumming idly while the right lay still. There was little left to do, and nothing that could be done until he was quite sure that the ink was fully dry. Casting sand would not help now, only serve to blot the tiny shapes of houses and make the map useless to its future owner. He might attack the string by which it could be identified in the library, but that was make work a this point, and angling the map might make the ink run, also rendering his work futile.

The work was relaxing. There had been a time when the idea of being Dai and working in the Bureau would have been-and was- the worst of punishments, but Malik had adjusted quiet well to the upheavel in his life. The world of assassins was one he had grown up in, but this life-of literature and quiet work interupted only by those who needed the knowledge he held- was equally satisfying. The holes in his life were few, and those left were healing well. There was much to know and learn as Dai, and he was content to spend his life learning everything. Especially when it meant quiet days in study at work, doing what he loved for the people-and the cause- that he loved.

It was warm that day. Not that Masyaf was ever cold, but on a normal day the sun blistered against the buildings, heating the outside world to unbearable levels. Only those people who truly needed something ventured out, and then with great reluctance. But today a wind blew through their city, chasing off the worst of the heat as it sighed through streets and alleys. It was the perfect day to be out, to walk and mill amidst his brothers, watch the novices at practice, practice again with the sword as he worked to regain his former skill-

"Malik, I am bored. Are you not finished yet?"

\--Or spend the day keeping his lover both entertained and on task. An almost impossible feat, when applied to Altair ibn La-Ahad.

"I must only wait for the ink to dry, and then there are few enough details to add. You must be patient if you will be a successful Grand Master."

"Patience is for assasinations, which means I am always patient. Besides, I do not want to wait now. You have been writing all day, and I am bored."

"Yes, I am aware of the fact, and as I have said I am almost-"

"And I was away yesterday, and did not return until late, and you were working with the novices, which meant that I did not get to greet you right away."

"Well, my presence was needed. Surely you cannot deny that it is important to-"

"And you were tired from the work, and so slept the night through. And so I have not had my fill of you today."

"Allah save us, are you not listening? I told you I would be done soo....mmmmm."

It was unfortunate, Malik decided, that Altair was so good at the observational aspects of being an assassin. He had long ago memorized the exact spots to manipulate and bring all of the dai's arguments to a stuttering halt. And judging from the fact that Malik could feel the man's smirk against his neck, Altair was quite pleased with himself on that point. At any other time Malik would have pulled away, given out a lecture and gone back to work, but as Altair had managed to slide the first layers of his garmets away already-and because, though he'd never admit it, he had missed Altair the previous day- Malik only turned away from the desk, resting his hip against the wood and sliding his lovers hood down and away. It was only right to go along with it, he decided, as Altair would not be his left hand again-and Allah only knew how he interpeted exactly what Malik needed at the exact second he needed it- until they were both more then satisfied.

"So you are feeling logical today. I must be rubbing off on you."

It was hard not to shudder at that tone in Altair's voice. It was the tone that, quite clearly said, I am going to ravish you slowly and without mercy until you scream my name, and was always followed by the promised ravishing. And as Altair was already carrying him the few feet through the curtain and to their bed, the promise in the voice seemed to be in effect.

"I've wanted you all day," he continued, his voice low as he continued divesting Malik of the dai's clothing. "Standing just behind you all day, feeling you against me, knowing you were so close to the wall." The robes were finally free, and Altair attached his lips to Malik's collarbone as his hands glided over familiar muscle, sliding ever lower. "All day, with you moving against me....Do you know what it did to me?"

"Y....you should have said something...."

Maliks voiced trailed off into a whimper as Altair's hands slid lower, lifting his hips and sliding one wool stuffed pillow under his back. The man was always attentive in these situations, manuevering himself and his surrondings so subtley that the Dai didn't notice until later that the grandmaster had been helping him compensate. When they were like this, and Malik unable to raise himself onto his elbow for long enough to matter, Altair always found ways around it. Efficient, perhaps, but sweet in it's own way.

"I did." There was a tiny note of petulance in Altair's voice as he began stripping off his own clothing. "But you kept shushing me. What was I supposed to do?"

Malik had no answer to that. His head had fallen back, eyes closed in quiet appreciation at the skill with which his lover worked. Altair had finally managed to relief himself of his robes, and was now contentedly working his hands over the dai. Muscles glided and shifted under his palms as he held the man's hips, teeth and tongue engaged at a dusky nipple. The warmth of Malik's skin-coupled with the frantic drumming of his heart and the quiet murmers flowing from his tongue-was enough to arouse the man further, and Altair was more then happy to satisfy that need with his favorite pastime: testing Malik. It was a simple strategy, really. He simply pushed his lover to the very brink, and then waited to see how long he could last. Patience was, after all, a virtue of all assasins, and the ability to control yourself was equally important. They must all possess these two things.

With that goal in mind, he started from the top. Malik's hair may have been short, but there was more then enough for Altair to run his hands through, combing back dark strands as his mouth descended onto Malik's. Lips fought for dominance, bruising tender flesh with their passion. Here alone Altair relented, parting to the Dai's insistent tongue. There was no heaven quite like the feeling of having his mouth plundered by an eager Malik, who left nothing untouched in his single minded questing. Both were gasping for breath by the time they parted, but the grandmaste gave his lover no chance to gain back ground. Hands clasped gently around his prize as he stroked and fondled, loving nothing so much as the sight of Malik climbing the peak to orgasm. One hand moved to still a rising chest, an arching back, before returning to it's task, for the sweetest music in the world was his lover in ecstacy.

For Malik, there was nothing but white. There was too much pleasure, too many sensations, to comprehend at once. Only Altair could torture him so thouroughly, and yet leave him begging for more before the end. Keening-for there was no other word for the sound that escaped his throat- he tried to writhe, and was held down against the linen blanket by one incomplete hand. He'd forgotten that Altair loved nothing so much as control in bed, and that he himself adored relinquishing it. Allah be merciful, but he was close now. He needed but one more touch to send him into the oblivion of pleasure....

And at that moment, Altair gripped hard Malik's base, denying his lover the final drop into orgasm, his ree hand still wandering. "Control, my love. I am not yet finished with you."

"Alt...Al..tiar...." The moan was wanton, breath sobbing out around it.

"Yes, say my name. Tell me what it is you want, [i]im hopim[/i]."

Damn the man! Malik refused to beg for what he truly wanted from Altair: he had given in too many times in the past. Instead he gathered his strength and pushed up, using surprise and Altiar's own weight to flip them. He ground their hips together, grinning at the moan this elicited. Nothing could be better then having the control back, and he did not mean to lose it again. Resting on his knees he reached across the bed, ignoring a twinge of pleasure as Altair clamped down gently on a nipple- and grabbed the scented oil he'd pick pocketed from a merchant some months ago. Light and fine, it made the penetration easier and left them both smelling of sandelwood. Slick hands glided over a stiffening Altair, and Malik himself tried not to tense as two strong fingers slid against and through his entrance.No matter how often this happened, he would never get used to it. Two became three before the stretching was done, and he positioned himself.

"Malik, if you dare-"

He dared, dropping hard and encompassing Altair in one breath and move. The pain burned through him for one long moment, and he fought to keep the moisture from his eyes, but it was worth it to feel his lover coil up, eyes rolling as he groaned. He did not wait, and they had no rythm, only give and take in long strokes and rough holds, clawing and nipping as they raced to be the last over the edge. Malik struggled for control, for the one more second of sanity that would leave him the victor, but it was too much. He could only bite hard at Altair's shoulder as he fell into an ocean of white, the other man teetering for only a second before following with a shuddering moan.  
How long they lay there he knew not, but the sun was still high in the sky when Malik forced himself up toward the clay basin and pitcher, struggling to pour from the heavy container in an attempt to wash. Strong hands preformed the office for him, and it wasn't long before they were both rid of any hint of their dalliance. Sliding back into his breeches and tunic, Malik stretched and moved lazily toward the map room.  
"You aren't going back to work?!"

"Oh, but I must." The smile on Malik's face was one of pure mischief. "And when I am finished, I have every intention of training your skill in the escaping of bonds. Safety and peace, Altair."

He didn't make it to the desk.

**Author's Note:**

> Im hopim is 'my love' in Arabic. Oh, and my boyfriend wants to thank you for several hours of cuddle timeas I used his X-box 360 to reacquaint myself with our boys.
> 
> Happy Yuletide, and I hope you like it!


End file.
